


Reading Henry James

by 912luvjaxlean



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Breaking the Fourth Wall, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 13:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12582684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/912luvjaxlean/pseuds/912luvjaxlean
Summary: Phryne and Jack discuss literature in their own intimate way while I listen in.





	Reading Henry James

I was posting on Facebook, lurking on Tumblr, and cutting up a MFMM calendar to make family portraits, when my sister, Maleficent flew in.

"Wasn't my wedding picture in that frame?" She asked.

"Jack needed it. He's sad because Phryne went to England. I wanted to cheer him up."

"You do know he's not real, don't you?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Never mind. My god, is that a coloring book? Of that show?"

"Yes. But, I'm having trouble with Jack's hair. I don't have a pomade crayon. What do you think?"

"I think you need to get out more. I signed us up for the library book group. We're reading Henry James." Then she got back on her broom and left.

_Henry James?_

"Jack, you don't really enjoy reading Henry James, do you?"

"Well, I admit his writing style suggests that he may have been paid by the word."

"Or, was it by prepositional phrase?" Miss Fisher asked wittily.

"I believe it was by the comma," added Jack with a light laugh.

_Really? I asked._

"We weren't speaking to you, Miss Voyeur. We're canoodling," said MIss Fisher as she loosened Jack's tie.

"Don't you have some Henry James to read for that book club?" Asked the canny detective.

"Better her than me," said Miss Fisher. 

"You're wrinkling my tie," said Jack.

"That's because you're crushing me to you. Kiss me."

"What about her?" Asked Jack.

"Go away, Miss Voyeur," said Miss Fisher as she turned off the light.

At Jack's suggestion and to get my sister off my back, I rushed to the library, got the tall book of short stories and hurried home to read it. First, I took a nap. Then, I cleaned the litter box, did laundry, paid some bills, and washed the kitchen floor. (It's amazing how much you can get done when you're avoiding something.) 

I was now ready to read. But first I went online to post clever comments on fan sites, discover new fic, and search for pretty pics of Jack. 

Three days later, I finally found the book under the load of towels I still hadn't folded. It was time to be entertained by the rousing adventure stories of Henry James.

"Ah, excuse me, Miss Voyeur, if you have a moment. I'm alone right now," whispered Jack.

_What happened to Miss Fisher?_

"The little death," he answered.

_Really? What did you do to her?_

"I'd prefer not to elaborate," said the intimate and engaging voice.

_What about a hint?_

"Henry James wrote stories with a psychological twist."

_Just a teeny tiny hint?_

"Though seemingly static in terms of action, much takes place on a cerebral plane."

_C'mon. Two words to describe what you did to her._

"Closet. Picnic."

_Hmm...let's see. Napkin? Basket? Cottage pie? Used your fingers and ate? Niiiice._

"I must admit James wouldn't qualify as adventure."

_Whatever you say, Inspector._

"Call me Jack. Everyone does."

_Alright, Jack._

"Ponyboy, who are you talking to?" Asked the newly revived Miss Fisher.

_It's just me, I said._

"Why is  _She_ here again?" 

"I'm afraid I let her back in, my darling."

"To watch?"

"To discuss literature."

"While you're wearing nothing but my hat and long fringed scarf?"

"I thought the lights were out in the sanctity of this boudoir?"

"When did that ever stop me?" There was a sound like a palm slapping rounded bare flesh. "Who's Mama's Ponyboy?"

Aroused. I opened the book with new interest. Jack had me eager. To read. 

Maybe I should watch an epi to get in the mood. I'll find one with books in it. Or Jack holding a file. Or writing in his notebook. Or leaning and reading a newspaper. Or looking literary. Or doing the left arm lean and having a whiskey and hoping Miss Fisher brings out a copy of the Kama Sutra. Perfect.

Alrighty then. Now I am ready. Microwave popcorn? Check. One of those double Snickers bars that you plan to eat just one of? Check. Diet Coke to balance out the candy? Check. Food coma? Maybe. But, I am not thinking about Phrack.

Why was Jack wearing her scarf and his hat?

Wait. Wait. Did she say his or her hat? I'll just scroll back. She said HER hat. Which one? I wonder if I can ask him? Probably not. She seems to have a tight rein on him. What epi has that reference to her hat not suiting him? I must find out.

Much later. And really ready to read. I am opening the book and being all book clubby. Jack would be proud of me. Done. Feels great to finish that sentence. On to sentence two:

"In relation to times and intervals I can only recall that if this visit of his to me had been in the early spring it was one day in the late autumn--a day, which couldn't have been in the same year, with the difference of hazy, drowsy sunshine and brown and yellow leaves- that, taking a short cut across Kensington Gardens, I came, among the untrodden ways, upon a couple occupying chairs under a tree, who immediately rose at the sight of me."

Huh? What? My head hurts. I need an aspirin or a drink, or both. Maybe if I just close my eyes for awhile... 

"Don't stop, don't stop," Phryne begged.

"You want me to keep going? I can keep going."

"Yes, Jack. Ple-e-eze!"

"Let me just...How's that?"

"Turn of the screw!" Cried Phryne.

_Is that what you call a literary allusion, I asked._

But, the only answer was the song Let's Misbehave playing in the background.

 


End file.
